


Seams and Scars

by flowersforgraves



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Zygerria Arc (Star Wars: Clone Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27250660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: Cody tamps down the anxiety swirling in his chest. “Ahsoka is a kid,” he says. “No offense, Commander Tano, but you shouldn’t be doing this.” He spares her a quick glance, and the only expression he can read on her face is a furrowed brow. “Permission to speak frankly, sir?”In which Cody plays the role of a pleasure slave.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 99
Collections: Fic In A Box





	Seams and Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



The briefing for the mission to Zygerria stays on track for a surprisingly long time. Cody himself is actually the one to derail it, and there’s an element of twisted irony in the look Rex gives him. They’ve taken to betting an extra minute in the shower on these briefings: who will be the one to disrupt it, how long it’ll take, and whether or not it will ever be finished. But Cody doesn’t really feel like he has a choice.

“Sir, can you repeat that for me again?” he asks, voice deliberately bland.

“I said that Anakin, Rex, Ahsoka, and myself will all be going to Zygerria undercover to identify where the colonists have been taken,” General Kenobi says. He lifts one eyebrow. “Is there an issue?” he asks, somewhat archly.

Cody tamps down the anxiety swirling in his chest. “Ahsoka is a kid,” he says. “No offense, Commander Tano, but you shouldn’t be doing this.” He spares her a quick glance, and the only expression he can read on her face is a furrowed brow. “Permission to speak frankly, sir?”

“Always.” His general’s arms are folded across his chest, and Cody notes, with a tired fondness, that he’s reflexively stroking his beard again.

He shifts, recentering himself and focusing in on Skywalker. He knows this will affect both of them, but Skywalker has the final say, so that’s where he directs his effort. “The things that’ll happen to her undercover as a _pleasure slave_ are going to be traumatizing. Everyone there is going to hurt her and you will have to know that you did that to her. And she’ll know that you did that to her. Are you sure about that part of the plan?”

There’s a heavy silence for a long, drawn-out moment. Then, “Kriff,” General Skywalker says, half turning. He’s not fast enough to completely hide the disgusted twist of his mouth, and Cody knows he’s won.

“Force. You’re right, of course, Cody. What do you suggest?” General Kenobi asks, shoulders dropping.

Cody breathes, and lets some of the tightness out of his chest. He lets his eyes slide over to Ahsoka and Rex, gauging their emotional state. Rex is, as always, unreadable to natural-borns, though Cody suspects the three Jedi in the room are acutely tuned to the Force to read emotion off both Rex and Cody. Knowing Rex as well as he does – they share a face, after all – Cody can tell that he’s unsettled, cautious and wary because he doesn’t know where Cody’s going with this line of questioning. Of course, there’s the relief that Ahsoka won’t be put in that situation, but the underlying feeling from Rex is hesitance.

Ahsoka, on the other hand, is wearing her heart on her sleeve, poor kid. Her eyes are wide, and Cody suppresses the pang of regret that he’d had to even put that idea in her head. But she needs to have her eyes open going into this, even if she’s not the one playing a slave. She’s looking from general to general, and occasionally sneaking quick looks at Cody or Rex, nervous energy making her bounce up and down on her toes.

Cody is glad he’s wearing his bucket. It’s a lot easier to only focus on hiding his emotions than having to worry about his face on top of it, and he’s well-versed in controlling his voice. So the set of his shoulders is casual and his voice firm but not dark when he says, “Send me instead. I’ll do it.”

-

“I’ll do it,” Cody says.

Kenobi looks at him, surprised. “Are you sure? You don’t have to –”

“I’m sure,” Cody interrupts him, and Rex’s jaw clenches. He wants to grab Cody’s arm, but he’s too well trained to break his at-ease stance.

Other clones have dealt with sexual violence, in civilian and Seppie contexts alike, and the procedure for that is generally accepted: don’t ask about details, offer comfort, warn everyone else, protect your brothers so it never happens again. Most clones, Rex and Cody included, view it as simply another sort of duty to undertake, up there with resisting torture and diplomatic escort missions. It’s generally unpleasant, but worthwhile, and if you don’t give up any information and keep the other person satisfied, it counts as a success.

Because of that unspoken rule, Rex doesn’t know details about any specific situations. What he does know is that this is sickening, and he can’t stand by and let anyone do this. As grateful as he is for Cody pushing back on Ahsoka being put in that position, Rex is about to violate that last, most sacred commandment if he allows Cody to do this. _Protect your brothers._ He almost says something, actually takes a breath to do so, but Cody shoots him a look that makes him bite his tongue. Sometimes he’s grateful for how well Cody can read him, and sometimes he hates that Cody knows what he’s going to do even before he does. This is one of the latter.

“Convince me,” Skywalker says after a heavy pause. “Come back in an hour and show me.”

“Yes, sir,” Cody says with a quick salute. “Could I borrow Captain Rex?” he asks.

“Go for it,” Skywalker says, voice tight and unreadable. It’s unusual for Skywalker to be so closed off, but it’s understandable, considering his background. Kenobi nods, and turns to face his former padawan, and as Rex and Cody turn to leave, they start murmuring, heads together and revising the plan.

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Rex grabs Cody’s arm. “What the hells do you think you’re doing?” he hisses sharply, leaning in close.

Cody pulls away. “I’m _not_ letting you do this. And I’m sure as kriff not letting _Ahsoka_ do this either.” He pulls off his bucket, and pushes Rex into a room. “Go get me some cuffs and a shock collar from the armory.”

“Cody…” Rex’s fingers curl into fists, almost involuntarily, as he stares daggers at his brother, daring him to proceed.

Cody meets the glare with one of his own. “Don’t make me order you, Rex,” Cody says, quiet intensity burning in his eyes.

“Fine,” Rex says, and he goes.

When he comes back Cody’s down to nothing but synth-briefs, and is using gun oil to paint swirls over his chest and arms. “Cuff me, collar me, and paint my back,” Cody says shortly.

Rex really doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to see this, let alone do it, but he paints bold lines and sweeping curves across Cody’s back, locks the shock collar around his brother’s throat, and closes the cuffs around his wrists with shaking hands. “I’m fine doing this,” Rex says, one last attempt. “I’ll be alright. I promise.”

Cody just looks at him. “Walk across the room like – like Hondo does.” The way he’s ignoring Rex’s offer is galling, but hells if Rex is going to confront him about it. This is a typical Cody response to an uncomfortable situation, to just focus on the mission and compartmentalize aside the worst aspects to be dwelled upon in nightmares in the coming months. Rex knows there’s no point in calling attention to it.

Rex walks, trying to affect the nonchalant swagger that makes Hondo so insufferable and so charismatic at the same time. He’s sure his heartsickness is obvious in the way he moves, but Cody isn’t letting him off easy.

“More hips,” Cody says.

Rex walks again.

“Better,” Cody tells him. “Do that, and we’ll head back to the room. Don’t say anything. Just shove me in front of you and kick me when we get there.”

“I can’t do this,” Rex mumbles. “Cody –”

“Yes, you can,” Cody says, flat. “You’ll have to. Do you want Ahsoka to be my slave master?”

He flinches. “No,” Rex admits. “I – alright.”

Cody’s expression softens a little, and he comes up to look Rex directly in the face. He tips Rex’s chin up and presses his forehead to the dome of Rex’s bucket, a keldabe kiss despite Cody’s bare skin. “It’ll be okay, Rex’ika. I promise we’ll make it through. You can come take your payment yourself if we die.” A tiny smile tugs at the right corner of his mouth.

“Shove and kick?” Rex asks, taking a deep breath as he forces himself to break the keldabe kiss.

“Shove and kick,” Cody agrees. “A practice round first?”

Rex shakes his head. “I’d rather not do that more than I have to,” he admits, and Cody nods.

As they walk through the halls, some of the 212th are staring at their mostly-naked commander. Cody glares at them, daring them to question him. But when they reach the room, his demeanor changes sharply. His head bows, chin dropping, and he hunches his shoulders unobtrusively like he’s trying to make himself small while seeming to stand straight. His body language becomes closed off, and Rex wants nothing more than to hug him.

Rex pushes the door open, shoves Cody in front of him, kicks him like he’s been told. Cody drops to his knees and doesn’t move to catch himself, even though his lip nearly splits on the plasteel of the floor. Rex crosses his arms, waiting for the reaction from the Generals.

There’s an odd expression on Skywalker’s face. “That’ll do,” he says tightly.

Kenobi steps forward, puts a hand on Cody’s shoulder. “Look at me,” he says.

Cody does, still subdued. Kenobi kneels to make eye contact, staring into his gaze for a drawn-out moment.

Then, “Yes,” Kenobi says, standing. “This will be fine. If you’re sure you want to do this, Cody, there’s still time –”

“I’ll do it,” Cody says without hesitation.

-

The actual trip is uneventful. Rex and Cody sit in the back of the shuttle with Ahsoka, who naps most of the way there. Cody’s shoulder is pressed against Rex’s the whole way there, and the warmth of his brother beside him is comforting. There are a few moments when Cody almost tips his head to the side to rest on Rex’s, but restrains himself.

“Are you sure –” Rex asks him in a low voice once more.

Cody bites back a reflexive snap, and says, “Rex,” in the flat, no-nonsense commander’s tone he rarely uses outside of battle or discipline.

Rex mutters something in the clone argot under his breath, but quiets down. “Cody?” he says after a moment.

“What,” Cody says, trying not to let his anxiety show.

“I love you, vod,” Rex tells him.

Cody turns his forehead to press against the point of Rex’s shoulder, the only brief moment of tenderness he’s going to allow himself. “You too,” he replies.

Rex digs his fingers into Cody’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp, and Cody shuts his eyes. “Come on,” he tells Rex. “Help me with the paint.”

-

Zygerria comes far too soon for Rex’s taste. He helps Cody get dressed in the slave outfit, and Rex spends too long painting designs on his back while Cody stays unnaturally still and barely breathes. The rest of them have much simpler costumes (the irony of it doesn’t escape Rex, though there’s nothing he can do about it except smile bitterly under the helmet), and it takes less time than it should to get everyone kitted out.

Rex squeezes Cody’s shoulder once, a final promise of love, and then they’re off. It had been much easier to get an audience with the queen than anyone had anticipated, so they’re all standing – kneeling, in Cody’s case, but the rest of them are standing – in the court until Miraj Scintel is done with whatever state business she has to do. Rex has one hand on Cody’s collar, and he really should be paying attention to what’s being said, but all he can think about is the way Cody’s trembling, ever so slightly.

“Bring him,” the queen orders. “Let me see what he’s made of.”

“Do you mind if we send the child on ahead?” General Kenobi interrupts smoothly. “You know how children are.”

The queen nods, and smiles with a cold, calculating beauty. “Go ahead, child, take the bags to the room.”

Ahsoka casts a quick worried glance over her shoulder. Presumably it’s meant for General Skywalker, but instead she catches Rex’s eyes. He inclines his head ever so slightly, a silent promise that she won’t be alone for long. Reassured – though Rex is growing increasingly doubtful that she should be – enough to continue, she hurries off with the generals’ bags. A single guard peels off from the back row behind the queen to escort her.

Bringing himself forcibly back to the immediate, Rex jerks on Cody’s collar, shoves him forward into the queen’s direct line of sight. The last contact he has with his brother is the sole of his boot connecting with the small of Cody’s back, and then the mission is well and truly off.

Cody looks up at her, more defiant than he’d been with the generals before. He’s still not acting like himself, but Rex prays to the Force and any gods listening that the mission will be quick and easy. He doesn’t want to watch Cody retreat any further into himself than he is; even the practice scene on the _Negotiator_ had taken a toll on him.

She prowls around him, and Cody stays stock-still as she examines him first with her eyes, then with her hands. It takes a sickeningly long time, and Rex wants so badly to tear his eyes away, but he can’t. The only thing he can do to help is watch, so that Cody isn’t alone in every way. He’ll witness for Cody until the guards take him away, and even though it’s the only thing to do, it’s not enough.

Finally – finally! – she steps back, sits back down on her throne and makes a quick gesture. The guards bundle Cody off to the side of the room, like they’ve done this a thousand times before. He’s not sure whether it would be better or worse to know whether there’s any truth to that. Rex sets his jaw and resigns himself to the fact that he won’t be able to keep watch without breaking cover, then turns his attention resolutely to the generals and the queen.

-

Obi-wan can’t stop his gaze from sliding over to where the guards are fingering Cody open and touching him all over. He suppresses the twinge of jealousy that threatens at the sight of someone else’s hands all over his commander. _Stop that,_ he tells himself. _You’re Cody’s commanding officer, not his lover. You aren’t supposed to have feelings for him. That’s not what the Jedi do._

He can’t suppress it completely, though, and notices Anakin’s head turn sharply toward him,

The second they’re out of the throne room, Anakin says, “We have to stop.”

“I know,” Obi-wan says. “Let’s get settled in our rooms and then we’ll talk about it.”

As soon as Rex pushes the door to the room open, Ahsoka runs to meet them. The room is expansive, less like a hotel suite than a penthouse. There are two beds, both canopied with gauzy drapes and covered in rich blue bedspreads. To the side is a smaller room with another bed, with the same jewel toned trappings, and a utilitarian cot that has obviously been dragged in from somewhere else.

“There’s something really really wrong,” Ahsoka says immediately. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something really really wrong with Cody.”

Rex is silent and impassive, and Obi-wan can’t feel anything significant from him through the Force. He doesn’t like that, but he can’t afford to get distracted by Rex right now.

“The Force doesn’t feel right,” Anakin agrees. “Let’s just get this over with as soon as possible.”

Obi-wan doesn’t say anything. He only nods his agreement, because he still doesn’t trust his voice not to shake.

-

Rex doesn’t know how much to say, knows how much Cody values his privacy, but he still can’t stand by and let his brother serve as a pleasure slave. He wants nothing more than to storm in, to shoot every slaver in sight, to free everyone imprisoned anywhere on this planet, and take his brother home, but he knows that’s not possible.

Right now, he’s regretting everything about this mission: letting Cody glare him into silence at the briefing, agreeing to be Cody’s handler, Cody convincing him that he’d be fine, even not voicing concern in the exchange that just happened between the three Jedi. He knows, on some level, that given the opportunity to do it over again, he would probably make the same choices again. Cody had been right, after all; better he play this part than Ahsoka. It’s no comfort to know that he’s made the right choice, though, because that doesn’t change the fact that Cody is trapped alone and scared in the palace, and Rex can’t do anything to help him.

“Sir,” he says low in Skywalker’s ear, instead of pulling a blaster and systematically clearing every room in this palace, “we really need to leave.”

“I know, Rex,” Skywalker says, jaw set tight. “But we still have to see the mission through. We’ll get out of here as soon as possible. This place gives me the kriffing chills.”

“Yes, sir,” Rex says.

-

A guard pinches his nose and tips his head back, almost before Cody can react. He kicks out, and the resulting grunt of pain is satisfying. Of course, he gets his comeuppance immediately, in the form of the drugged water poured into his mouth and nose, and another set of hands emerge from the shadows to forcibly hold him down.

He struggles against the grip of the guards, some deep-seated instinct he can’t suppress that wants him to live, but to no avail. _Kriff_ , he thinks, before the drug starts to kick in, and his head feels like it’s filled with cotton. It’s now terrifyingly easy to relax, to lie still and let the water fill his mouth and nose, to not fight it, and, as the last coherent thoughts fade from his mind, he goes limp.

The water cascading over him makes him gasp and choke, but there’s a strange remove to it now. He shuts his eyes against it fruitlessly.

“Is he drugged?” a voice asks, and Cody feels a chill run down his spine despite the warmth of the day.

“Yes, your majesty. He tried to fight back, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle.” The cool dismissal in the guard’s voice would be infuriating, if Cody wasn’t feeling too comfortable to care. “He’ll be good for you, and if you have any issues with him, we’ll be more than happy to whip him into shape for you.”

There’s a throaty laugh from the queen, and the water stops. Cody blinks slowly, and then there’s a hand in his hair, tugging hard. Tears sting his eyes, involuntary from the sharp pain, as he is wrenched around to face the queen. Her eyes are clear and piercing, and she’s looking at him like she’s assessing a battlefield.

She looks him up and down, just as thoroughly as she had in the throne room. “You,” she says crisply, “are going to be a very good boy for me, aren’t you?”

Cody doesn’t remember what he’s supposed to say to that, but he nods anyway, because she’s obviously waiting for a response.

It is, apparently, not the correct one. She snaps the fingers of her free hand – the one that’s still holding Cody by the hair tightens, nails digging into his scalp – and there’s a crack just before a stinging impact against Cody’s back.

If he weren’t being held in place, or if he wasn’t still feeling so unusually quiet, he would have turned to look at the guard who just struck him. As it is, he just blinks at the queen and lets the words wash over him. “When the queen asks you a question, you will respond ‘yes, your majesty,’” the guard snaps. “You will respond to commands from all other people with ‘yes, sir’ as appropriate. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Cody says, and imagines that Kenobi is standing there instead of a Zygerrian, because calling his general ‘sir’ is much, much more pleasant than remembering that he is a slave now.

The queen drops him unceremoniously on the ground, and his legs are too wobbly to hold him upright. He falls with little grace; he can’t even react fast enough to try not to hit his head on the floor. Idly, he thinks it would be a shame to die that way, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Break him in,” she tells the guard. “You may penetrate him, but do not let him penetrate anyone. I’ll have a use for him later.”

The guard bows, which looks very strange from the angle Cody’s lying at. “Yes, your majesty,” he says. “The will of the queen is my will. The will of the queen is the will of the people.”

She acknowledges it with a wave of her hand, and sweeps off imperiously, leaving the guard standing above Cody still holding the whip he had used before. As Cody looks up at him, the guard smiles down. It’s a cold, fearsome thing, teeth bared in a hungry expression that is more grimace than smile. He touches his wrist, and says, “He’s ours for now. Do whatever you want except stick his dick in your hole.”

The smile broadens as a different door slams open to the sound of several pairs of booted feet. Cody is too disinterested to turn and look, but beneath the artificial, drug-induced calm, panic swells in his chest.

-

Things go wrong – go worse, actually, because things have been wrong since the start, and they never should have gone through with this mission in the first place – startlingly quickly. One moment Rex is standing silently at the edge of the arena, and the next the queen is calling Anakin Skywalker to the arena, and the one after that he’s fighting a losing battle against other guards, real guards, who are far better trained in combat with this weapon than Rex will ever be. Despite his reflexes, despite clone officer training, he isn’t a machine, and he ends up on the floor with a boot over his throat before he can do anything to help his general.

“Did you think we wouldn’t recognize a clone, stupid?” a guard snarls, and the boot comes down.

He doesn’t remember being knocked out, nor does he remember the trip to Kadavo.

-

“Be good,” croons a voice in Cody’s ear, and he chokes on the cock that is abruptly shoved into his mouth. He doesn’t know how long he’s been on his knees, doesn’t know who the person in front of him is, doesn’t know how many times he’s already been punished for not being good enough.

He opens his mouth wider, relaxes his jaw, and tries his best to lick at the cock in his mouth. His tongue feels thick and heavy, and he’s sore and tired and he doesn’t like this, doesn’t want this, but it doesn’t matter. It _doesn’t matter_ , because all Cody can think about is how, if he isn’t good, he’s going to be punished with another dick, another opportunity to fail, and how each is worse than the last.

“Hit him,” the person holding his hair orders, and Cody flinches preemptively, as if he can avoid the crack of the whip. Of course, he can’t, and the pain from this strike bleeds into the pain from all the other marks on his back, bleeds into the pain-pleasure of the drug still weighing down his limbs. A second blow shocks him into actual response – that hasn’t happened before, at least that he can recall, and it hurts more when he’s not expecting it.

The cock in his mouth withdraws, and Cody tries to lean forward, chasing after it. He has to be good, he _has_ to, and if this guard doesn’t come he’s failed in that. There’s a deep chuckle behind him, and he can faintly hear one of the others say, “Didn’t take much to break him. Look at how desperate he is now, and we haven’t even taken his hole yet.”

For the first time since he’s been drugged, he feels a fierce wave of shame. Cody shifts uncomfortably, more aware than he has been before that his cock is hard, almost painfully so. No matter how firmly he tells himself he doesn’t want this, his body doesn’t want to listen. Instead of obeying, he only finds himself more shamefully turned on.

The hands that roll him over and pin him to the ground are rough, but even so, Cody can pretend well enough that it’s his general. He hates how easy it is, but the fantasy of the hands in his hair being Rex’s while the cock that pushes into his ass being Kenobi’s is so simple. It’s right there, and comforting, and Cody wants to be so good for his general, and it’s much easier to pretend he’s enjoying it if it isn’t palace guards fucking him. His hips push back, almost involuntarily, as he opens his legs further to provide easier access and take the cock deeper.

“What a little slut,” comes a different voice. “We should have started with this.”

Cody whines, twisting under the guard’s grasp when he stops fucking into Cody. “Please, sir,” he whispers, because he’s finally getting some friction on his own cock, and he wants to come. “Please, don’t stop, I – I need it.”

The guard holding his hair twists it in his fingers. Cody gasps and clenches around the cock in his ass, and the guard fucking him makes a low, sinful moan. He can so easily imagine his general making that sound instead, and he _wants_ , wants it to be Kenobi’s dick stretching out his hole too fast like he’s spent months fantasizing, wants it to be Rex pulling on his hair, wants them both here and taking him apart instead of two strangers with an audience.

And then, _kriff,_ he feels the guard come. It makes him feel dirty, disgusted, _used,_ and he hates it as much as he’d loved the fantasy of Kenobi before.

A quiet, shaky breath is the only thing that escapes before he gets a handle on his reaction. The drug is obviously wearing off, otherwise he wouldn’t be having to work this hard to stay docile and compliant. As he regains self-awareness, he’s horrified at how easily he’d begged earlier, how needy he’d been.

Even as he has the thought, the guard pulls his cock out of Cody’s ass, leaving his hole open and leaking come. “He looks like a proper slave now,” says one of the guards watching. “Let me have a ride.”

Cody bites back the moan that threatens to come out of his mouth. As much as he hates this, his body is responding with great enthusiasm, and he’s still desperately hard. If he’s lucky – if he’s _good_ , he thinks, stomach souring, if he’s good, they’ll let him – make him – come.

“Be good,” whispers the guard holding his hair, and Cody is briefly blinded by tears as the guard yanks his head up, and then another cock is shoved too hard too fast into his hole, and he does his best to shut off his brain until they decide to drug him again.

-

In stark contrast to the surreal speed at which the mission broke bad on Zygerria, Kadavo is all too real. Rex hates it, hates feeling the sweat drip down his back and the dirt compact itself under his nails. The work is grueling, and his heart aches for the slaves who have been in the mines for months or years, underfed and overworked until they die.

He is trying his best to keep an eye on Kenobi, because while Jedi are surprisingly competent solo fighters, they don’t have the endurance or strength for consistent manual labor. It’s hard, because Rex is trying to take some of the burden off the few Togrutan colonists who will even spare him a look, but he’s not unaware of Kenobi’s offers of help being rebuffed.

“Here, let me –” and Kenobi is shoved, hard, by a guard who is completely nonchalant about activating the shock collar. Rex winces slightly in sympathy, but there’s a not-insignificant part of him that doesn’t actually care.

As much as he loves Cody – and he does, fully and totally, and wants so badly for his brother to be out of that hellsdamn palace – and as much as he’s aware that Cody is deeply in love with his general, Rex can’t bring himself to be completely sympathetic. It is, after all, Kenobi’s plan that put them in this situation. It is, after all, Kenobi who okayed Cody’s participation in this mission. It is, after all, Kenobi who had wanted to send Ahsoka in the first place. Rex can’t quite forgive him for that; he’ll need a lot of time and space, and right now in the mines of Kadavo he’s getting neither.

But for Cody’s sake, Rex spares more than a glance at the general. In fact, he makes an effort to shield Kenobi from the worst of it by causing a disruption himself, and gets electrocuted for his trouble. The shock collar is heavy and uncomfortable, a constant reminder that Rex is basically helpless here.

He offers a sad smile to the Togrutan elder who stumbles while carrying a particularly awkward rock, and casually steps between him and the guard observing their small group. Kriff. The more he thinks about it, the more he regrets that single night they’d spent in the palace, and the more he wants to kick his past self for failing to take advantage of it.

His breath is ragged, pained as he forces his body to continue to move, to push himself physically until he can do no more. Working harder to try and compensate for the weaker members of the group is a short-term solution at best, one that will burn Rex’s energy reserves far too quickly for escape, but he needs to try.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees General Kenobi stumble and fall, and the raucous laughter of the guards twists a knife in his chest. “Come here, Jedi scum,” one of them snaps, and Rex straightens up, watching as they drag Kenobi out of the group. “The facility commander wants to see you.”

Rex remembers to turn back to his work just before the guard watching his small group makes his way over. “Make sure you stay working, clone,” the guard tells him lazily. “Don’t make me shock you.”

Rex grits his teeth and does his level best to ignore the condescension, and tries not to think about what the overseer is going to do to Kenobi, nor how Cody would have moved to his general’s defense. He’s not going to let himself get distracted while he’s supposed to be shielding these civilians as much as he can.

-

Cody does not remember where he is. He does not remember why he is not on the _Negotiator_ and he does not remember why he is not on Kamino and he does not remember why his whole body aches with a deep burning muscle pain.

He remembers that he is supposed to be good. He remembers that he should be quiet and willing and eager, and he remembers that he can’t say no. That’s really all he needs to know, so when people he doesn’t recognize enter the room and manhandle him out the door, he doesn’t resist. He is being good, and that means that he needs to cooperate.

Cody recognizes the room he’s dragged into. There’s some vague recollection of Rex at his back, Kenobi and Skywalker and Ahsoka behind him, and staring up at the face of a woman he doesn’t know. This is the room where he slipped from being Cody into being whatever he is now, confused and dazed and lost and most of all, _good_.

He shivers at the rush of air on his bare skin, a sudden, violent thing. His eyes are squeezed tight for a brief moment, and, in that breath, someone grabs his chin none too gently, and kisses him hard.

This is easy. Cody knows what to do with this. He kisses back, lets his mouth fall open, and moves forward to try and make better contact with the person kissing him. His hands meet a thickly brocaded fabric: the queen again.

Her lips move against his, tongue dipping into his mouth and taking rather than letting Cody offer. That’s fine, because Cody doesn’t know what she wants from him – helpless? Eager? Shy? Whatever it is, he’ll do it, because he is good and he will be anything she wants him to be, but he has to know what it is first.

She shoves him to the floor, hard enough for his kneecaps to make an audible sound against the stone. Cody tries not to wince, because he is trying so, so hard to be good, and he wants to make her happy. Pleasing her means he won’t be punished later, and he’s been hit enough times to flinch away from the thought of it.

“Leave,” she commands, and Cody doesn’t see the room empty, but he hears the clatter of boots on the floor and quiet murmuring, and he suddenly misses his batchmates. He misses being curled around a body that is exactly the same as his own, misses the comforting warmth of five troopers breathing with the same cadence, and misses knowing what his place is.

Her fingers skate over his back, tracing the scars he doesn’t remember getting, ghosting over the welts and scabs from when he’s been hit over the past – week? He doesn’t remember, he _doesn’t remember_ , and for the first time the knowledge hurts, sends a spike of panic-fear-disgust through his chest. But he can’t, won’t, react to it, because that would be bad, and he needs to be good the way he was taught, and he needs to make her happy, and he deserves to be used. This is what he is for, now, no matter that he was built to be a soldier; now he serves like this instead.

“Thousands upon thousands of you,” the woman mutters, “and they don’t even use you for this. What a waste.”

Cody is quiet, because he is good and that is what he is supposed to do. He was made for war, and sex is just another kind of war, one that he’ll never win, because he deserves to be used and abused and hurt, and as long as he is good he will not be decommissioned. He’s learned that he is a toy, a plaything, and whatever his partners want is what he’ll give.

She smacks his ass, and he can’t stop the surprised noise that escapes. But she’s pleased, and Cody thanks whatever higher power might be listening that she is indulgent. He spreads his legs for her, and does his best to respond to her movements, and does not allow himself to think about the fact that he doesn’t remember.

-

Obi-wan finds himself dragging his feet as he is frogmarched out of the mine and into proper civilization again. He feels oddly out of place, dressed in the ragged remains of his costume as he is, and covered head to toe in dirt and grime. He’d expected to feel some measure of relief to be away from the mine, but instead of the tension in his chest easing, it seizes up, his shoulders hunching involuntarily and refusing to relax.

He can feel the pain and despair from the slaves below, and the warm smugness from the guards as they watch him fight with himself, torn between gratitude for the break and guilt that he isn’t alongside the other slaves. It sickens him, the guards’ attitude and carelessness as well as the sheer overwhelming suffering from the slaves.

Even delaying as he can, the walk to the overseer’s office is over faster than he’d like. “Get in there,” says a guard’s gruff voice, and Obi-wan is treated to a shove that almost sends him tumbling head over heels through the door. But he keeps his feet, and lifts his chin defiantly as the overseer’s chair slowly and dramatically turns around.

The room itself isn’t ostentatious; the walls are bare and utilitarian, while the screens in front of the overseer have plainly seen better days. Obi-wan notes the dingy setting, contrasts it with the polished blaster in the overseer’s hand. “Yes? How can I help you?” he asks, preempting the conversation.

A disturbing smile spreads across the overseer’s face as he turns the chair to face Obi-wan. “I think you should be more concerned with the help _you_ need from _me_.”

-

The water sluicing over his body burns when it makes contact with the open wounds on his back. Cody sticks out his tongue just a little, tastes it to confirm his suspicions: yes, it’s salt. He can’t even try to drink some of it to cool off the burning exhaustion of his sore throat, rough from deepthroating cocks that fade and blur together in his mind.

It’s almost a relief when someone grabs him by the hair again, dragging him along the floor until he can get his feet underneath him. “I got one,” calls the guard who’s holding Cody. “Go ahead and tell them how much you’re looking forward to getting fucked, slut.”

“I can’t wait,” Cody says dully, and flinches away from the smack across his face that comes too quickly to dodge. “I’m such a whore, I need you all to fuck me,” he adds, desperately injecting emotion into his voice. The drugs they’ve given him have leveled out in their effects; he’s no longer completely uncaring, but he’s still pliant and docile, desperate to please lest he be punished. “Please, hurry.”

Another guard guffaws. “Can you kriffin’ believe how lucky we’re getting? The queen doesn’t even know we’re fucking her new toy, and here he is on his knees for us, so eager to please.”

“If you don’t keep it down, the queen’s going to find out we’re fucking her new toy, and then it’ll be our heads, so shut it,” snaps the guard who had dragged Cody in. “Come on, just decide how you want to fuck him and get going. We don’t have a lot of time before the queen wants him in the throne room.”

The other guard huffs. “No fun allowed, I see,” he mutters, but apparently he’s not upset enough to not want to fuck Cody. “Come on, slut, get over here and bend over.”

Cody goes, because he doesn’t want to be hit again, and he can see the guard’s erection bulging in his pants. If this is the worst he’ll deal with today, it’s survivable. “Yes, sir,” he whispers.

His hesitance doesn’t go unnoticed. “I told you to get over here,” the guard snarls. “Do you _want_ me to rape you, or do you want to come willingly?”

Cody lets the guard manhandle him to the position he wants, then does his best to relax. It doesn’t help when the guard barely waits to undo his uniform pants to greedily stuff his cock into Cody’s hole. The stretch and burn of his hole as he struggles to adjust to being so thoroughly filled is emphasized, rather than diminished, by the nails digging into his sides. He can’t bring himself to move, to push back and respond, just lets the fucking jar him against the table, hands pinned over his head and limp as he lets them use him.

“Hey, slut, why don’t you beg me to let you come?” The guard’s breath is ragged, and Cody figures he won’t last much longer.

So he begs. “Please, I need to come, please, let me, please sir, I need your cock, I want you in me, I want you to fuck me and use me like I deserve.”

“Kriff!” With a shout, the guard comes, pulling out of Cody’s hole. Cody can feel the semen dripping down his thighs, and he hates it, hates himself, and hates that he isn’t strong enough.

“Keep it down,” the other guard insists. “I need a turn too, and we’ll have to give him back in a little bit.”

The guard who is now rebuttoning his pants snorts. “Get that stick outta your ass and use it to fuck the slave. Keep it down, pah!” He spits, and Cody flinches at even that.

He doesn’t remember what the guard asks him to do. He moves mechanically, now, trying to disassociate away from this hell. “Yes, sir,” he says, because that’s the right thing to say. “I’m sorry, sir,” he says, because he is, because he needs to be good, and being good is saying yes, being willing, and doing everything asked of him.

He barely registers the impact of the guard’s palm against his ass when he gets spanked, but he whimpers and moans anyway. “Please, sir,” he says, because he is _good._

-

When Anakin shows up with Plo and the 104th, Obi-wan almost cries with relief. The Force is full of bright, familiar signatures instead of dull, beaten ones, and the Togrutan colonists scrambling to safety are beginning to smile. “Perfect timing, Anakin,” he says, and tries to smile.

Rex is moving quickly through the rush of bodies, and Obi-wan picks out his Force-signature next to Wolffe. They’re talking, low, intense voices, and their emotions are clouded with anxiety.

“Just in time, eh, Master?” Anakin grins, but there’s something hollow behind it, and Obi-wan regrets again that he hadn’t come up with a better plan. “Snips, go ahead and set a course back to the palace. We need to grab Cody before we head out, but then we can be rid of this place.”

Ahsoka nods and darts off, running to the controls of the small cargo ship docked with Plo’s cruiser, and Obi-wan turns to face his former padawan. “Are you alright?” he asks seriously.

Anakin’s smile turns slightly more genuine. “I’ve been worse,” he says. “Let’s just get out of here. The sooner we get Cody and get out of here the better I’ll be.”

Obi-wan leans against him, shutting his eyes in exhaustion.

“You don’t look so hot yourself,” Anakin comments, but doesn’t move and lets Obi-wan lean on him.

“Being reminded of the horrors sentients can commit on each other takes a lot out of me,” Obi-wan admits. He’d been aiming for a lighter, more acerbic tone, but instead it comes out dark and fatalistic. “How’s Ahsoka?” he asks, trying to turn the conversation.

“Could be worse?” Anakin lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “We’ll have to unpack some things after the briefing, but – Cody was right. She wouldn’t have survived the role he played.”

Obi-wan shivers slightly at the mention of his commander, who is still trapped in the palace on Zygerria. This rescue has done nothing to ease his pain. “Let’s go get Cody. It’s time to come home.”

-

The palace is in disarray when they arrive, which isn’t a surprise. The main building is ablaze, as well as one of the offshoot wings. Obi-wan’s breath catches in his throat, but Ahsoka says, “The slave quarters are over there. They should be out of the way of the fire, at least for now.”

“Good, good,” Obi-wan says, distracted. “I’ll get Cody out while the rest of you free everyone else. Good?”

Anakin nods decisively. “I’ll start north and work south. Rex, start south and meet me in the middle. Snips, you’ll stay with the ship in case we need to make a quick getaway.”

Ahsoka mock-salutes. “Yes sir, General sir!” she says, and runs to the pilot’s seat. Glancing over her shoulder, she looks at them all and says quietly, “Bring Cody home safe.”

“Always,” Obi-wan says before he can allow himself to contemplate the alternative.

The slave quarters are eerily quiet. Obi-wan forces himself to focus on finding Cody, and lets Anakin and Rex manage the escape. His commander’s Force signature is dimmed – probably with drugs – and the horrible sense of wrongness is even worse than it had been last time he’d seen Cody. But it’s easy enough to follow Cody’s Force-presence to the back of a room that contains three men, all nude save for shock collars and handcuffs. Each is leashed to a ring on the wall with a chain that’s too short for them to reach each other.

Obi-wan makes a beeline for his commander and unlocks the leash on Cody’s collar. “Come on, Commander,” he whispers. “We’re leaving.”

Cody stares up at him blankly.

“Get up,” Obi-wan says, and Cody does. “Follow me.” He pauses only briefly to unchain the other two prisoners in the room, and tells them, “Leave. The palace is on fire. This is your best chance to escape.” Beside him – and slightly behind him, as if in deference – Cody is silent and doesn’t look up.

Obi-wan winces in sympathy as he sees the cuts and bruises that litter Cody’s back and chest. His bare feet are soundless on the stone floors, which Obi-wan is certain can’t be comfortable. He can feel the chill of the floor even through his boots, and Cody doesn’t even have that to protect him. Obi-wan helps him through the window, and onto the ship where Rex, Anakin, and Ahsoka are waiting.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. “How did it go?”

“Fine,” Anakin says. “I hope we managed to find all the rooms, but –” He cuts himself off. “I’ll be in the cockpit.”

Cody has dropped to his knees where Obi-wan let go of him. His head is down and the wrongness in the Force around him hasn’t left.

Rex is kneeling beside the commander. “Hey, vod, you’re alright. You’re alright now, it’s safe, I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore. C’mon, Cody, answer me.”

Obi-wan holds his breath, waiting for Cody’s response. Instead of words, Cody just shudders, flinches, then holds himself perfectly, painfully, still.

“Where’s the key?” Rex demands. Obi-wan is a little surprised by his brusque tone, but chalks it up to understandable tension from the past… week? Ten days? He’s shocked to realize he’s totally lost track.

“I – I don’t have the key,” he admits, fumbling and patting his pants and shirt, checking pockets that aren’t there. “I didn’t see a key.”

Rex makes an irritated noise, examining the cuffs on Cody’s wrists.

“I can help you get them off?” Obi-wan offers, feeling sick and useless. Cody is still cowering on the floor, eyes squeezed shut as if he’s waiting for blows to start falling on him. “I should be able to at least see what you’d need to get it open.”

“Do it from there,” Rex says shortly, moving to block Cody’s line of sight to Obi-wan.

The gesture makes him bizarrely angry, but Obi-wan swallows it and focuses on the Force. Cody’s Force-presence is dulled, and being this close, Obi-wan can tell it’s both from drugs and trauma. To survive the torture of the palace, he’d withdrawn into himself, so deeply that his core personhood is hidden now. His heart breaks for his commander, and a snake of guilt coils in his stomach. Cody is afraid of him, and that hurts far deeper than he wants to examine.

With some effort, Obi-wan tears himself away from looking at Cody, and turns his attention to the shock collar and handcuffs restraining the man. He focuses in on the locking mechanism, reaching gentle tendrils of the Force into the keyhole. It takes a few moments – moments that he regrets, because the longer it takes the more agitated he can feel Cody becoming – but he does manage to get the mechanism to release.

Rex pulls the cuffs off Cody’s hands, gently brushing his thumb over the skin on Cody’s wrists that’s been rubbed raw by the metal. “Hey,” he says again, quietly, for Cody’s ears only. “Cody. Still with me?”

Obi-wan takes a step backward before he focuses in on the collar, trying to afford them what little privacy he can. This mechanism is much less complicated, possibly because it’s harder to reach to take it off one’s own neck, but Obi-wan is grateful that the collar takes less time. While he’s working, Rex’s low tones blur into background noise, providing a warm ambience between his voice and Force signature. “There,” he says, after a long moment. He’s reluctant to disturb the fragile peace of this moment, but no matter how much he wants to run to Cody’s side and soothe away his pain, he knows Rex is better suited for the job. “I’ll be up front if you need me,” he adds, and retreats back to the cockpit with Anakin and Ahsoka.

-

Small as it is, the ship nevertheless has a walled-off back room. Once Cody’s hands are free, Rex half-drags his vod into the room for some privacy. Rex wraps Cody carefully in a blanket. “Hey, Codes,” he says, gently.

As he starts to move to get Cody cleaned up, Cody grabs his wrist, fingers bone-crushingly tight. Cody looks up at him, and Rex’s heart breaks to see the fear there.

“It’s alright, vod,” he says, keeping the exhaustion and pain out of his voice, though he knows full well that even now Cody can probably still read it in his face. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Cody’s still trembling, but it’s pretty clear that it’s no longer from the cold. “Rex?” he asks, voice hoarse and ragged.

“Yes,” Rex says, “yes, it’s me. Cody –“

“Rex,” Cody says again, desperate, and Rex pulls him tight against his chest.

“I'm here,” Rex tells him, “I'm here, love, you're safe.” He lets Cody cling to him for a moment before shifting so they can both be more comfortable. “You’re safe now, we’re going home.”

The shivering gets more violent briefly. “Rex,” Cody repeats, and Rex starts rubbing his back, long, sweeping strokes to remind him that he doesn’t need to be afraid.

Cody clings to him like a drowning man to a life preserver. Rex pets his hair, and wishes they were close enough to dock with the 104th cruisers. Cody needs to be surrounded by other clones right now, and Rex on his own isn’t enough. “Cody, vod, listen to me. It’s okay. It’s okay, you’re alright, I’m not going to hurt you and I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you either.”

“I’m sorry,” Cody whispers, still pressed against Rex’s chest. “I’m being – bad.”

“No, you’re not,” Rex says, trying to be patient instead of shaking Cody back to himself like he wants to. “It’s okay, vod. You’re doing fine."

“I’m sorry,” Cody repeats. “Ruining it.”

Rex continues rubbing his back. “No, love, you haven’t ruined anything. The mission is over. It was a success, you did fine.”

“Mission’s over?” Cody asks after a beat that stretches too long to be natural. His voice is still that awful, small thing that makes Rex ache to protect him. 

“Mission’s over,” Rex agrees. “We got everything we needed. The colonists are safe. We’ll be dropping them off at a Republic supply station so they can get medical care and supplies, and then they’ll be going back out.” He pauses. “Wolffe and the 104th are here to help with the transit, so we’ll only be making one trip.” Talking through the mission is soothing for him and Cody both, and slowly, painfully slowly, he feels Cody stop trembling so much.

-

Ahsoka peeks into the dimly-lit common room the clones have claimed on the supply station while the 104th drops the Togrutan colonists off and refuels. She scans the room carefully, and finally catches Rex’s eye. Rex beckons her in, after a long moment, and she hesitates. It doesn’t seem right, doesn’t seem like her place, for her to be there when the only thing holding Cody together is Rex’s arms around him. Wolffe is sitting next to them, back resting against Rex’s shoulder, leaning into Cody.

“Padawan Tano can't come in,” Wolffe says sharply. The Wolffepack is sprawled out in various states of sleep, but at their commander’s raised voice a few of them stir, reaching for each other to close ranks against an intruder.

She freezes mid-step.

“Padawan Tano can’t come in,” Wolffe repeats, more quietly this time, “but Ahsoka can.” He shifts slightly, and Ahsoka can tell he’s getting ready to get up if she makes a mistake.

At first she doesn’t understand what he’s asking. Then, looking around at the clones in the room, she notices that none of them are wearing anything that would indicate rank. No kamas, no pauldrons, no insignia. With quick, catlike grace, she hops back to the doorway and starts to shed her Jedi gear. She carefully unclips her beaded padawan braid and sets it aside, laying her lightsaber on top. After a brief hesitation, she unclasps her whole weapon belt and drops it at her feet.

She looks to Wolffe for approval before stepping back in. He nods at her, and offers a tiny approving smile. “Thank you, vod,” he says, and Ahsoka’s heart aches. Having a Jedi in the room would be disastrous, but if she’s here as a little sibling it’s okay, and she squeezes her eyes shut to blink back tears that threaten. It hits her again just how deep the gulf between trooper and general is, and how badly she never wants to lose sight of it.

Silently, she pads over to Rex, Wolffe, and Cody, then settles down with her legs thrown over Rex’s and her head resting on Wolffe’s thigh. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, and she doesn’t know whether she’s talking to Rex, Wolffe, or Cody.

Wolffe’s hand drops to rest on her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, vod’ika. I promise no one blames you for anything,” he says in a low voice.

Ahsoka wishes she could accept that as the small comfort it should be, instead of it feeling like an accusation Wolffe doesn’t mean. “I should have helped,” she says against his hip.

He rubs the back of her neck. “You’re helping now,” he murmurs. “That’s what counts.”

-

Obi-wan has been trying to meditate for the last hour, but his mind keeps drifting away from his center and toward the mission. He can’t stop thinking about the utter disaster the mission had been on a personal level – in the strictest, most clinical sense, the mission had been an unmitigated success. Not only were the colonists rescued, but Anakin’s part of the mission had had the unintentional side effect of throwing the Zygerrian slave empire into disarray. A few of the slaves they had freed from the mine on Kadavo returned to their home planets with promises to push for their governments to ally with the Republic against the CIS.

But.

But, Anakin had been confronted by the slavery of his own childhood. But, Cody’s personhood is still muted by drugs and trauma. But, Rex is right now putting aside his medical needs to keep Cody safe. But, Ahsoka had watched other Togrutans be enslaved and exploited.

Obi-wan stands up suddenly, balling up the robe he had been sitting on. He paces back and forth a few times, then drags a hand down his face as he leans against the windowframe. He’s going to have to meditate again later, but right now there’s too much pent-up emotion to even be able to release it into the Force.

Of course, now is the perfect time to hear a knock at the door. “Master?” Anakin calls from outside.

“Coming,” Obi-wan calls back, then heaves a long, drawn-out sigh. Turning on his heel, he smooths over his Force signature to hide the worst of his emotion before opening the door. “Yes?”

“Can I come in?” Anakin asks, pushing past before Obi-wan can answer. “We should go over the after-action reports.” He’s clutching a pad in one hand and has the other arm clamped close against his side, as if he’s hiding an injury.

Obi-wan trails after him. “I thought you didn’t like after-action reports,” he says, only slightly teasing. “From what I hear you’ve never written one before in your life.”

Anakin doesn’t smile. “I can’t sleep,” he says bluntly. “Might as well close this mission so we never have to think about it again. Ahsoka’s with the troopers and I told her to come find me if she needs anything.”

Obi-wan concedes with a nod, and pulls up his own report, sitting down across from his former student. “Are you hurt?” he asks, gesturing at the way Anakin is holding his ribs.

“No,” Anakin replies, then pauses. “Not really. I – the queen knew how to push my buttons.”

That’s really not an answer, but Obi-wan knows it’s about the only thing he’ll get out of him. “Okay,” he says. “Anakin…”

“What,” Anakin says, irritation flaring for the first time.

Obi-wan shakes his head. “You know that whatever you need, you can come to me.”

Anakin leans forward and pats Obi-wan’s hand. The simple gesture is oddly comforting. “Yeah, I know,” he says.

-

Cody sleeps off the drug withdrawal over the next three days. Rex refuses to let Helix keep him in the medical bay the whole time, and, after Rex promises to make Cody drink lots of water and Helix makes thinly veiled threats of personal violence if he doesn’t, Cody winds up in his own bed on the _Negotiator_.

When he finally stays awake for more than ten minutes at a time, Rex doesn’t quite know how to ask the question. Finally, he settles on, “Cody? Are you in there?”

Cody still flinches, but it’s not as pronounced as it had been. “Rex?” he asks, still uncertain. “I’m – this isn’t a dream, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Rex confirms. He’s had nightmares himself, and helped other clones through them, enough times to have a handle on how to help. He reaches out – slowly, deliberately, making sure Cody can see every move he’s making – and grabs both of Cody’s hands in his, turning his palms up and squeezing. “It’s real. It’s me. How are you feeling?”

The laugh that wracks Cody’s whole body is a violent thing. “Like karking garbage,” he says, but squeezes Rex’s hands back. “I don’t – we already – the mission’s over?”

“Objectives universally met,” Rex tells him. “Hells, Cody… you were in terrible shape when we got you back. Not surprised you don’t remember.”

Cody shudders, flinches again. “I remember enough,” he murmurs darkly. “I’m just glad General Kenobi said yes.”

Rex blinks at that. It takes a second to register what Cody’s talking about, but when he finally makes the connection to that briefing, and Cody’s proposal – “I’m glad Ahsoka’s safe too,” he says. “Can’t say I like seeing you like this, though.”

“Where did you spend the mission, then?” Cody asks, some of the spark coming back into his eyes. “Don’t tell me you had tea cakes and sandwiches.”

Rex leans his forehead against Cody’s, again echoing the helmet-to-helmet intimacy of the keldabe kiss. “No tea cakes,” he admits. “Vod?”

Cody relaxes into the contact, and it’s the best Rex has seen him look since before the mission.

Rex takes a deep breath, knowing he’s about to ruin what little calm Cody’s been able to find. “If you want to tell me about what happened, you can.”

Immediately, Cody stiffens and pulls back, withdrawing his hands from Rex’s grasp. “No,” he says, and something in his face closes off, and then he hunches his shoulders like he’s bracing to be hit. “Sorry,” he says in a much quieter tone. “I’ll be good. I’m sorry.”

 _Kriff_. “You don’t have to,” Rex assures him. “It’s just an option. There in case of emergencies.”

Cody is still meek and quiet, and Rex wishes once more that he’d pushed harder for extracting Cody before the mission went south. “You want to see the Wolffepack off?” he asks, forcibly cheerful.

Cody looks up at that, and gives a tiny nod. “If you want to,” he says.

“I love you, vod,” Rex tells him.


End file.
